Under the Red Hood
by jazzpha
Summary: A new vigilante shows up in Jump City, and does the job well enough to give the Titans some time off. But who is it under the red hood? And will the peaceful tranquility come to an end once the Titans solve that mystery? Post-series. Rob/Star, BB/Raven. The usual.
1. Under the Red Hood

**Under the Red Hood**

* * *

Robin sat and stared at the picture on the wall of his room, an irritatingly low-quality CCTV photo of a vigilante who had been eluding him for long enough that his dislike for the guy was starting to border on personal. The other pictures of familiar faces in mugshots arrayed around the mysterious person weren't associates, but rather targets. Which made it even more confusing: Jump City was one of the last places Robin expected to see someone unaffiliated with the Titans seriously hunting criminals down.

The stoic leader of the Titans— they'd had to drop the 'Teen' from their name after Beast Boy finally turned twenty, the last across that line— scowled and reminded himself that this person the media had taken to calling 'The Red Hood' might not even be a man. Robin himself was no stranger to vocal synthesizers and disguisers. His scowl turned into a wince as he remembered his time as Red X, and thought for a moment that maybe his old rival had just changed accessories. But then Robin remembered that Red X had been sidelined by the Red Hood a few months ago, with enough in the way of witnesses and evidence to confirm that they weren't the same person.

"Robin?"

He cursed under his breath, hoping he could have cleared his head and gone back to sleep without waking up Starfire. So much for optimism.

"I'm fine, Star."

She chuckled. Robin hated when she chuckled like that. It was her tell that she was about to call his bluff.

"Look me in the eyes and say that."

Robin turned around, regretting the day he'd promised Starfire that he wouldn't keep his mask on when it was just the two of them together. It made it impossible to lie, or even slightly misdirect. He was starting to understand why Batman was so in love with his cowl. It kept things very simple, and simple was in short supply these days.

"I'm fine," he repeated, walking from his desk back over to the bed. The moonlight passing through the small gap in the blinds over the window illuminated the scars across his chest, and Starfire's mouth flattened into a hard frown.

"You have enough of these already," she said, moving her fingers gently from scar to scar as Robin laid back down beside her. "I do not wish for them to become all that is left of you, Robin."

He smiled, his blue-gray eyes melancholy in the moonlight.

"They won't. I promise."

He leaned in and kissed her, feeling her relax into his embrace. But she sighed and pulled back, a knowing look in her eyes and a small smile on her face.

"You are trying to distract me," she said. "It will not work."

"Can't blame a guy for trying."

She laughed, pulling him with her back down to rest their heads on his pillow.

"I love it when you try."

Her smile made Robin fight back a groan, and the kiss against his neck made him stop fighting it.

"Now who's being distracting?"

Starfire pulled her head back to look at him, holding his eyes in hers for several moments.

"Is this not nice? This… peace?"

Robin looked at her, feeling his mind running in several directions at once. He was also beginning to understand why Batman was perpetually single. Because Starfire was right. The peace _was_ nice. Hell, it was absolutely wonderful. He and his friends could be themselves, could enjoy their lives, without worrying about what trauma waited for them around the corner. No demons, no evil masterminds, no domination-minded psychopaths. It was a strange feeling, to be moving into adulthood and finally feel like they could have the childhood they'd missed out on.

And yet.

"It is," he agreed. "I just don't trust it. Peace never lasts."

Starfire nodded.

"No, it does not. But instead of waiting for it to end, perhaps it would be wiser to enjoy it while it is here?"

Robin smiled, leaning in again. This time, neither of them pulled away, the embrace ending with a mutual sigh of contentment and a quiet drifting off into sleep.

* * *

The next morning Robin walked into the main room of the Tower and smiled at the sight that awaited him: Raven had fallen asleep on the couch in her pajamas, a book open and resting against her chest. She was snoring softly, and with each rise and fall of her abdomen, a small green cat twitched as it lay on her stomach, purring happily. One of her hands was resting on the cat's head, idly scratching its ears as she slept. Deciding to let her sleep in a little longer, Robin prepared her mug and put a kettle of water on the stove, before slicing himself a bagel, dropping it into the toaster, and putting some coffee on. Walking over to the window, he watched the sun finish rising with a satisfied sigh. He could practically hear Alfred's knowing voice behind him, as clear as it had been almost a decade ago, when they'd last spoken:

" _This isn't so rotten, is it, Master Grayson?"_

Behind him, breakfast announced its readiness with a coordinated pop, whistle and beep. Robin put the finishing touches on everything, bringing the tea over to rest on the table next to the couch. The sound and the smell woke Raven up slowly, and she smiled at the sight of the tea waiting for her.

"Thanks," she said, before glancing down at the cat sleeping on her. "It's so hard to find good help these days. He's lucky he's cute."

The cat purred deeply and stretched, before opening its eyes and looking up at Raven. It hopped off its perch and quickly transformed into Beast Boy, dressed in pajamas to match Raven's and sporting his usual bedhead.

"I think the words you're looking for are 'roguishly handsome'," he said with a grin, before stretching his back out with a pop and a sigh. "Thanks for the assist, Robin. I got the rest covered."

Robin nodded, turning his attention to eating his own breakfast and watching the city beneath him slowly wake up. He would never have thought Beast Boy to be the early morning type, but there he was, making breakfast for two. Raven had been concerned at first that their relationship had caused Beast Boy to be possessed by some minor demon and turn into a functioning, mature adult, but she had quickly learned not to look a green gift horse in the mouth. After the second year had passed without some sort of betrayal or attempt to devour her soul, Raven had stopped worrying and learned to love the shape-shifter without reservation.

It wasn't long before the three of them were sitting at the table and eating together, the morning news chattering on in the background. Starfire joined them several minutes later, and Cyborg was the last of them to make an appearance.

"A quiet Saturday morning, and BB is up and at 'em before me," he mused, chuckling as he fried up some sausages on the stove. "I wonder how the snowball fight in Hell is going."

"Hey, you can't blame me for wanting to spend time with Raven more than I want to sleep in," Beast Boy called back, giving the woman across from him a smile that made her blush behind her mug.

"Never said I did, man." Cyborg took his seat, and was halfway through his waffle when his eye widened. "Check it out, Robin," he said, pointing at the TV screen. "It's your new crush."

Arching an eyebrow, Robin turned his head to find the newscasters introducing a very familiar guest for their morning interview.

"And today, with us for the very first time, Jump City's mysterious new hero: The Red Hood!"

"It's like they're giving that word away for free," Robin grumbled, falling silent at a nudge from Starfire.

"Please, Veronica," the figure sitting on the couch said, "'Red Hood' is fine. 'The' is for teams, and I work alone."

Robin scoffed, but was inwardly glad for the opportunity to see his mysterious new rival lounging in plain sight. Red Hood looked to be about Robin's age from their size; it was impossible to see their face due to the red helmet covering it. The closest look Robin got was when the part of the helmet around Red Hood's mouth opened up to make way for a straw stuck into a large cup of iced coffee.

"Wouldn't that be easier to do without your helmet on?"

Red Hood smiled.

"Nice try, Veronica." The voice was unmodulated now, and Robin was certain it was masculine. "My identity is a closely-guarded secret."

"Well," Veronica said with a laugh, "I had to try. So, why the mystery? Trying to keep your loved ones safe?"

Red Hood laughed, and Robin instantly recognized the bitterness behind the humor.

"Hardly," he said. "I don't have any of those. No time for it."

Something began to scratch at the back of Robin's mind. He _knew_ that voice. Didn't he?

"A man on a mission, then. I can respect that. So, tell us a bit about yourself. What brought you to Jump City? And why are you taking up the fight against crime, when the Titans already call this place home?"

Red Hood smiled. He shifted the two white eye-slits of his mask to look at the camera, and Robin got the sense he knew who was watching.

"The first question is easy," Red Hood said, putting his drink down and leaning back on the couch as his mask closed up again. He brought up his feet, clad in combat boots, to rest on the nearby table. His pants seemed military-issue, as did his jacket, but it was colored plainly, good for blending into a crowd. His shirt was plain black, and Robin could tell that body armor was resting beneath it.

"If you want to get technical," Red Hood continued, "I'm a very expensive piece of R&D. The people who made and trained me had very… specific goals in mind for my life. I decided to give them the finger and get as far away as I could. As it turned out, Jump City was where I got far enough away to get them off my back."

"These people you mentioned, are they dangerous?"

"That depends. How dangerous do you consider the Bratva?"

Veronica's eyes widened.

"I think that question answers itself."

"Heh."

"But then, why make a name for yourself? Won't that just jeopardize your safety?"

Red Hood shrugged.

"I got tired of doing nothing. I was using the Titans for cover; I knew the Bratva wouldn't bother getting involved in a city policed by a team like theirs. Too risky. Cops are one thing, but metahumans? Aliens with super-strength? They could make money elsewhere more easily."

Red Hood paused to drink more coffee, and the itch in the back of Robin's mind kept getting worse.

"After a while, I figured I owed the Titans. So I decided to do their job for them, at least until it gets boring. I will admit preferring lethal weaponry to rubber bullets and tranquilizer darts, but I also love a challenge."

"I was going to say, your gear looks impressive."

"Never try to wage a one-man war without a little protection. The minute you think you can't be killed is the minute you die. Combat 101."

It was then that the voice clicked in Robin's head, and his mouth opened in shock.

" _Never make a deal with an inter-dimensional demon without a little protection."_

"I can't believe it," he breathed, sinking back into his chair. "It's not possible."

"I'll have to take your word for it," Veronica said, laughing nervously. "You said you were 'R&D', Red Hood; what did you mean by that?"

"I'm a clone," Red Hood answered simply. "A clone of one of the finest soldiers the US Army ever produced. I guess that was the Bratva's idea of a joke, turning me against Uncle Sam."

Veronica almost choked on her coffee, swallowing with as much dignity as she could and putting the mug down on the table next to Red Hood's feet.

"A clone? Is that even legal?"

Red Hood chuckled. Robin felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"Does that matter? The Bratva, and organizations like them? They'll just do whatever they want, and there's nothing we can do to stop them. Short of completely tearing them down, I guess."

Next to Robin, Raven let out a small gasp, going even paler than usual. She looked over at Robin, and he could tell from her eyes that she had come to the same conclusion he had.

"And would you consider trying that?"

"Maybe," Red Hood said, "but not for a while, if ever. And if I did, I'd have to change my name to something more dramatic. Say, Deathstroke."

"That does sound pretty dramatic," Veronica said. "And you're not worried about the Titans trying to stop you from keeping the criminal element in check?"

"Not at all. I'm not killing anyone, and I'm not breaking any laws. I just need the reward money from bringing in those scumbags, since I'm not funded by the city like the Titans are. That, and Robin doesn't strike me as someone petty enough to go after a fellow do-gooder just because they're making him look bad. Besides, I'm sure he appreciates the time off."

Veronica laughed, glad for the change of topic.

"I would imagine so. Do you think we should call him and ask?"

"Be my guest. And I'll make you a deal: if he picks up, I'll let everyone here see my face."

Veronica grinned, turning to the crowd for the first time since the interview had begun. They started cheering, making it clear what they thought. She used the phone on the table to dial Titan's Tower, and a moment later the console in the main room began to ring. Robin started to get to his feet, only for Raven's hand to close around his wrist.

"Robin…"

"I need to know for sure, Raven."

She let him go, and Robin walked over to the console. Pushing a button, he spoke.

"Good morning, Veronica."

"Robin! So glad you could pick up. Although I'm not too surprised, what with Red Hood helping to keep crime low around here."

"Which we appreciate, as he said. So, how about The Red Hood keeps up his end of the bargain?"

The crowd in the studio went silent, and the room was quiet enough to hear Red Hood's chuckle over Robin's choice of words.

"A deal's a deal," he said. Reaching up, he tapped the side of his helmet and the front faceplate slid back, revealing his face to the light. He seemed to be Robin's age after all, with black hair combed back just shy of shoulder-length and a pair of dark, intense brown eyes. His face was narrow but not gaunt, and the smirk he was wearing was just shy of vicious.

Robin looked into his eyes and knew the truth of what— and who— he was.

"Something tells me you won't be a loner for long now," Veronica said teasingly, drawing laughs from the audience. Red Hood closed his helmet back up and shook his head with a chuckle.

"We'll see."

"Robin, while I have you here," Veronica said, "do you have any questions for our guest?"

"One or two. Did the people who made you accelerate your growth at all?"

"No. And they didn't give me any memories from my genetic ancestor either, if that was going to be your next question," Red Hood added. Robin flinched at how easily he'd read him. "I had to put myself together one painful memory and long year at a time. Kind of like you did, I'd imagine."

Robin was silent for a few long moments, a deep old hatred rising in his stomach.

"I have a question for our hero," Red Hood said. "Should I start looking over my shoulder again?"

"No," Robin said, through gritted teeth. "You've done nothing to get on our radar. But if that changes, you're moving to the top of our list."

He hung up, moving back to the table and sitting down with a sigh.

"I want to say he's baiting us," he said. "That he's playing a long, long game. But until he proves that, there's nothing we can do."

From the looks on the faces of the rest of the Titans, they had all come to his conclusion about Red Hood's identity.

"If we were ever working at the same time, of course I wouldn't say no to a team-up," Red Hood's voice broke in from the TV screen. "But that's up to the Titans, not me. For now, I'm fine flying solo."

Robin turned the TV off, the dilemma in his mind close to spoiling his good mood. For one, he owed his newfound peace of mind to a clone of his worst enemy. But to make it even worse, Red Hood was right. He was being a legitimate hero, and an incredibly efficient one at that. Legally, the Titans' hands were tied.

"So?" Cyborg broke into his thoughts, frowning. "What're we gonna do?"

Robin was quiet for a moment, and then sighed as he made up his mind. Looking around the table, he gave his friends a genuine smile.

"I don't know about you guys," he said, "but I'm going to enjoy the rest of the morning."

Starfire was the first to get over her surprise, grinning.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," she said. "May I join you?"

Robin nodded, and the two of them left the room, likely headed up to the roof. Cyborg, Raven and Beast Boy finished eating in silence, and Cyborg left to go touch up the car in the basement. Beast Boy had one of his hands resting on top of Raven's, their fingers interlaced.

"You okay?"

She smiled, nodding.

"I'm fine. Thanks for making me breakfast."

Beast Boy grinned.

"My pleasure. Glad you liked it."

"I never said that," she teased, her smile turning into a smirk.

"Which explains why you ate all of it in record time."

Raven laughed, getting to her feet and pulling Beast Boy up with her.

"Come on," she said. "You and I have unfinished business from last night."

Beast Boy smiled, his fangs glinting.

"Yes, we do."

He vaulted over the back of the couch and sunk down into his seat, while Raven floated over and sat next to him. A moment later, each had a controller in their hands and the TV screen was warming up to the sight of a fighting video game.

"Tie-breaker time," Beast Boy said. "I gotta bring out my best."

He moved through the character select screen until he had selected a virtual version of himself.

"Cheater."

"Says the person picking herself. You know how broken you are in this game, don't even start."

"Can't blame them for being accurate."

Beast Boy laughed, the unpleasant surprise from earlier in the morning all but gone from his mind. His friends were safe, the Tower was peaceful, and he was playing a video game with Raven. Life was good, and he was more than happy to let it stay that way for as long as it cared to. All of a sudden, his train of thought— and focus on the game— was broken by the feeling of a finger tracing the outer ridge of his ear. He shivered and flinched, the distraction enough to give Raven the opening to win the first round. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Beast Boy saw Raven using her powers to manipulate the controller. Which left her hand free to do other, very pleasantly distracting, things.

"Something wrong?" she asked, her voice completely innocent as she moved her hand back to hold her controller.

Beast Boy laughed.

"No," he said. "Not at all."

* * *

…

…

 **A/N:** Ha HA, you all thought I was done with this fandom? Not quite! It got back under my skin, probably because I made the mistake of playing too much Injustice 2. This is the final version of an idea that's been kicking around in my head long enough to demand being written. I wanted to make it less plot-heavy and more character-focused, because simple plots and superheroes tend not to mix.

Hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading!


	2. Sow the Wind

**Under the Red Hood**

 **Chapter 2:** Sow the Wind

* * *

Ilya Yarosin hated dealing with the operations side of the Bratva. When he was behind a desk, tracking the ebb and flow of money and illicit goods, he was happy. The lower they stayed under the radar, the smoother the business ran. Acting out in the open, on no matter how small a scale, always made things messy. And messy was always bad for business. It was what Ilya had told his superiors several years ago, when one of them had been carried away with the idea of extravagant vengeance. He had told them not to go after one of the most gifted, and relentless, killers on the planet. He had told them to cut their losses and walk away.

And then his superiors had taken that man's daughter and shot her in the head.

That she had miraculously survived wasn't the point. It was the principle of the thing. In response, the man whom the Bratva had tried to cow— Slade Wilson— had tracked down and psychologically brutalized a girl named Tara Markov: the daughter of the very boss who had crossed Slade. Tara, who had been in the process of being groomed into the next generation of warrior for the organization, had wound up petrified. The scorpion sting in the tail of Slade's revenge.

And now, mocking them from seemingly beyond the grave, a clone of Slade had outed the Bratva as the owners of highly clandestine and illegal cloning technology. Technology they, in reality, neither possessed, nor knew how to use. But that wasn't stopping every intelligence and law enforcement agency under the sun from raiding every warehouse, safe-house and rat-hole they knew belonged to the Bratva. Ilya could hear Slade laughing at them, puppets on his strings.

The journey to Jump City had passed with a surprising lack of incident, and finding the Red Hood had been easy enough since the vigilante had exposed his face on live television. Ilya had tailed him to a dive bar outside the heart of downtown, far enough away from the massive Tower in the heart of the city to ensure they wouldn't be interrupted. Ilya knew Slade had let himself be followed; there was no way he would have kept track of him otherwise. Muttering a quiet prayer to whomever might be listening, the old soldier entered the bar. As soon as his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he saw the unmasked face of the Red Hood sitting at a corner table, his back to the wall. A bottle of vodka sat on the table, next to a pair of shot-glasses.

Making his way over, Ilya slid into the booth seat without a word. The Red Hood poured the vodka and slid a glass over to him, a smile on his face.

"I figured they'd send you."

The phrase was more than enough for Ilya to confirm his suspicion that Slade had been lying through his teeth about not holding onto any memories from his previous body. The bitterness and quiet anger in his voice was that of an old man, with scars far deeper than his current body was capable of possessing.

"They didn't. I volunteered."

Slade grunted, lifting his shot-glass.

" _Nazdarovya."_

Ilya accepted the toast, draining his shot in one gulp and pouring another.

"You're going to let me out of here alive, Wilson?"

The look Slade gave him in response told Ilya everything he needed to know. A moment passed in silence before the older man spoke again.

"You screwed us over in a big way, you know," he said. "We'll be reeling from this for a long time. But I can't understand why you did it. You know how this story always goes."

Slade smiled, drinking his own shot and pouring another.

"Not always," he said. "The pieces in play are different now. Do you and your friends really want to be fighting a war on two fronts?"

"I certainly don't. But I'm not the only one who gets to make that decision. Kynazev and the others want your head on a platter."

Slade snorted, his brown eyes glinting with disdain.

"Yes, yes. I told them it would go about as well as the first time. Of course they didn't listen. What I wonder is, will _you_ be able to fight a war on two fronts?"

"In what sense?"

Ilya smiled as he poured another shot.

"You won't be able to keep up this act forever. Sooner or later, Robin and his little band will put it together that we didn't clone you, and that you're still their arch-nemesis. Do you really think they'll keep letting you run wild once that happens?"

Slade shrugged.

"They'll have no choice. He might be single-mindedly determined to an admirable degree, but Robin is no murderer. Unless I give him cause, he won't come after me."

"And you think giving yourself a new body means the Titans will forgive you for everything you've done to them in the past? I doubt that somehow."

"Their forgiveness doesn't concern me. I already have the public on my side, and some people in very high places in this city owe me quite a bit. Even if I was arrested, I'd be acquitted and I'd walk."

The smile on Slade's uncannily young face made Ilya fight back a shiver. He sighed, feeling the weight of his years on his shoulders.

"So then, why did you do all of this? What point are you trying to prove?"

"I'm done trying to prove anything to anyone. I've torn this city and its Titans apart multiple times. Each time, they've rebuilt. I'm not interested in seeing if they can do it again. I know they can. Soon enough, they'll have had peace for so long, they'll have lost the taste for war. And by that time, I'll have taken over this city as a hero rather than a villain. As I said, I love a challenge. So no, Ilya, I'm not trying to prove a point. I'm just settling a debt. One last vestige of my old life."

The other man nodded, hardly satisfied but knowing that was the best answer he was likely to get. He finished his last drink, bid Slade a silent farewell, and left the bar. Ilya was halfway down the block headed back to his car when he tripped and fell over an uneven piece of sidewalk, hitting the ground hard and grunting in pain. As he made to rise to his feet, he saw someone standing over him, and rolled over to find himself looking into the last pair of eyes he ever thought he'd see again.

"Tara?"

There she was, glaring down at him with the same cold, pitiless hate he'd seen in her eyes as a child, when the Bratva had forced her powers onto her. But she was older now, the innocence of her youth replaced by scarred determination and seething anger. Ilya felt a chill down his spine, and knew that he would not rise to his feet ever again.

"What we did, I wanted no part of it," he stammered, hoping to buy enough time for a passerby to appear. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did," she hissed, and Ilya knew from the sound of her voice that she was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Tara Markov. "You ruined my life."

She closed her right hand into a fist, and the sidewalk around Ilya warped and shifted. The stone turned liquid, flowing over the old man and burying him without a trace beneath the ground. Terra stood staring at the ground for several moments, hugging her plain black hooded sweatshirt tighter against the rising wind.

"Feel better?"

Terra sighed, not turning to look at Slade.

"No. But I wasn't expecting to."

The silence stretched between them, years of words unspoken on the breeze.

"Are you going to tell them?"

Her laugh was jagged.

"Obviously. It'd go great. 'Hey guys, it's me, the homicidal maniac who almost got you all killed. Can we be friends again?' Did the cloning process kill half your brain cells, Slade?"

The young man who was now calling himself Red Hood shook his head.

"I didn't clone myself, Terra."

She turned at that, surprised.

"What? Then how'd you do… whatever you did?"

"After the Brotherhood fell, the city government didn't bother staffing a room full of frozen villains with an abundance of guards. It was an easy thing to sneak in, carve some skin off of Madame Rouge, and be gone before anyone noticed. You'd be amazed at the things her cells are capable of."

Terra shivered, and the wind had very little to do with it.

"So," she said at last, "you really are just you. Nothing's changed."

Slade smiled. His face was the same age as Terra's, but his eyes looked years older.

"Everything has changed, Terra. I have a new lease on life, and I plan to use it."

Rather than thinking about what Slade meant by that, Terra thought of another question to ask. After all, it was possible she would never see him again after this, and she wanted to make it count.

"Why did you help me? I stabbed you in the back."

Slade's smile deepened.

"Did you? There aren't that many ways to get an audience with an Elder Demon, Terra. I had to improvise."

He turned and began to walk away, only to call back to her as he left.

"By the way, did you see the green fly on the wall in the bar?"

Terra felt her heart clench in her chest, but shook it off. He was lying. Right? He always lied.

"Bastard," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek and dropping to christen the camouflaged grave on the sidewalk. A moment later, Terra had ripped a piece of pavement off the road and ridden it into the sky, flying away.

On top of a lamppost near where she'd been standing earlier, a dark green fly sat and stared at the moon hanging in the sky. Then it seemed to deflate, before beating its wings and rising into the evening air. It had seen enough, and it was time to go home. Whether it would tell its friends what it had seen and heard, even the fly didn't know. Perhaps it was best for the dead to stay buried, this time.

* * *

…

…

 **A/N:** I wasn't expecting to write this so quickly, but I felt this thing needed a bit more closure than it currently had. So here we are.

I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading!


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